


Fight for Your Dreams

by accol



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Appropriate relationship with one's therapist, Dream Sex, Fantasizing, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, Jealousy, M/M, Masturbation, POV Harvey Specter, Panic Attacks, Pining, Therapy, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 05:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11570937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accol/pseuds/accol
Summary: Written for the Suits100 prompt #18:  Harvey comes to Dr. Agard, bearing news of yet another overly meaningful sex dream. This one’s not about Donna being a stand-in for his mother and sleeping with Travis Tanner, though – it’s not about Donna at all. Nope, the star this time around was Mike.





	Fight for Your Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [kho](http://archiveofourown.org/users/kho) for beta!
> 
> Canon divergent from episode 5.1. Some plot elements from seasons 5 and 6 have been repurposed. Inspired in part by the song by The Secret Sisters, “[He’s Fine](https://youtu.be/IKeQhr9_-JQ).”

 

_So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then, when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable._

_~ Christopher Reeve_

  
  


**_Tuesday._ **

 

It was barely a thing.  

Instead of smooth skin under his palm, Harvey’s dream-self had run a hand up a calf corded with muscle, a thigh covered in wiry hair.  Glimpses of his dream-partner were faceless and fading fast.  But, like everything recently, it was outside Harvey’s norm and it had him unsettled.  

No, not unsettled.  Keyed up.  Like one of Mike’s Red Bulls had been injected into his morning bagel.  

“What’s going on?” Gretchen asked as soon as Harvey walked in.

“Nothing is going on.”  Monumental restraint was the only thing that kept his hands by his sides and not fidgeting to adjust his tie.  Harvey Specter did not have tells.

She pursed her lips.  “Hmm, something _is_ going on with you.  But if you aren’t ready to fess up about it, I’ll give you this instead.”  She handed over a thin file folder.

Subject change.  Good.  Getting out of this conversation was priority number one, because hell if he was going to let Gretchen dismantle him like Dr. Agard had been trying to do brick by Freudian brick.

“And this is?”

“A present from Mike Ross.”

Harvey raised an eyebrow and opened the manila folder.  Inside was a single sheet of paper -- a shipping manifest -- topped by a Post-It note.

> _You can thank me later. -- M_

“Is this what I think it is?”  

“Sure is,” Gretchen replied with a knowing grin.    

Harvey grinned back, feeling the expression go toothy and sharp.  Opposing counsel had no clue they were about to fork over a huge check as soon as Harvey showed this off during this morning’s deposition.

“I love the smell of napalm in the morning,” Harvey said, tapping the folder against Gretchen’s desk.  He whistled _Ride of the Valkyries_ on his way to the conference room.  Battling to a win was an excellent way to focus his energy.   

  


**_Wednesday._ **

 

He was there again, the barest hint of a memory floating in the back of Harvey’s mind as he woke up. He stretched, waking his body up, and the dream stretched thin too.  It was too distant to dwell on, so Harvey scuffed into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face.  

While he brushed his teeth, something... a blue shard of meaning was there and gone.  

Downstairs at the gym, it haunted him.  The curve of muscle, the flex of a bicep, strength stretched under skin.  

Tugging his necktie tight, Harvey concentrated as he stared at himself in the mirror.  The details were just past the edge of consciousness.  But he grasped at clues piecemeal:  similar height, slim, a little soft around the middle, an ass that cupped perfectly into Harvey’s palm.

Squinting at his reflection, he wondered if it was…

Nah.

Work -- and a day made made infinitely more tolerable when Mike got Tanner thrown off their case -- swept the last vestiges of the dream man away.

  


**_Thursday._ **

 

“What’s cookin’?”  Mike came into Harvey’s office carrying two coffees.

“One of those better be for me.”

“Because I’m so magnanimous.”  Mike handed over one of the cups.

“Is this a bribe?  Are we adding inducement to your growing life of crime?”

“How dare you,” Mike grinned.  “This is just a friendly gesture.  Between friends who are friendly, and do things for each other to uphold the bonds of friendship.”

Harvey smiled at Mike’s inanity.  “Spit it out before you and I both have aneurysms.”

“I want to take a case.  Pro bono.”

“What else is new?”

“Ha ha, funny guy.  What’s new is I’m going to partner with Robert Zane.”

Mike leaned back in his chair when he dropped that bombshell.  He crossed an ankle over a knee, and his pant leg crept up.  Harvey seriously considered scolding him about having saggy socks.  But in the moment, it was the color of Mike’s leg hair that caught his eye.  He scalded his tongue on the too-hot coffee.

“Fine,” Harvey said distractedly.  “Go win one for the Gipper, but when you crawl back I expect more coffee.”

  


**_Friday._ **

 

“Now is the time where you thank me with celebratory beers and baseball on the boob tube,” Mike announced as he sauntered into Harvey’s office late in the afternoon.  

Harvey’s client had received that outrageously large settlement check today, all due to Mike unearthing that shipping manifest.  Harvey knew it.  Mike knew it.  The Post-It note Harvey had kept next to his phone knew it.

“Never say ‘boob tube’ in front of me ever again,” Harvey chided.  

“You’re totally right.  Baseball players are more about...,” Mike cupped his hands at waist height while a mischievous look took hold on his features. “So, the butt box?”  He made a double honking motion to punctuate his attempt at humor. 

Harvey rolled his eyes.  Beers with Mike sounded good, though.  He wouldn’t have to think about Donna leaving, about Dr. Agard’s needling, or about Soloft’s maneuvering.   

“On the condition that you say zero more words between now and when you get to my place at 7.”

Mike grinned.  He flipped the rear hem of his suit coat up mouthing the word _butts_ as he walked out of Harvey’s office.  

Later, by the time the 7th inning stretch hit, Harvey was half a six-pack in and warmly sinking into his couch.  The game droned on as Mike padded down the hallway to use the bathroom.

Harvey didn’t even realize his eyes had slid shut...

> _“Hey,” Mike calls from the hallway.  He’s wet and barechested.  Fresh from the shower.  Towel wrapped low enough Harvey can see his hip bones and the trail of his hair._
> 
> _“Make yourself at home,” Harvey teases from the couch.  He feels the moment when he makes the choice to let his knees fall open wide, when his tease becomes an invitation._
> 
> _Mike walks closer, leaving damp footprints across the hardwood.  “I will,” he answers Harvey.  “I'll help take your mind off things.”  His long fingers toy with the overlapping ends of his towel..._

“Bullshit!  Tie goes to the runner,” Mike shouted at the TV.

Harvey jerked awake with Mike's name on his lips.  For several heartbeats, he struggled to rectify the sight of a fully clothed Mike Ross flicking off the televised umpire and the vivid memory of a nearly naked and very forward Mike Ross from moments ago.  What if he had said something while he was asleep, or… Harvey glanced down at his groin in a flare of nerves.  His pants were laying smoothly, but the jittery energy was back, shooting through him uncomfortably.  His face felt hot.

“Jesus Christ,” Harvey said, annoyance spiking at himself as much as Mike.  “My neighbors are going to hear your bellyaching.”

“Everyone in the five boroughs needs to hear it.  That was a terrible call.”

“Take it back to Brooklyn, then,” Harvey grumbled.

Mike went silent.  Harvey rubbed his forehead, hiding his reddened face and concealing his rapid breathing.  He didn’t need to meet his eyes to feel Mike’s surveying look.  

“My apartment’s here in Manhattan--”

“Yeah,” Harvey snapped, disoriented for a split second before he remembered that Mike had moved in with Rachel.  Remembering _that_ made all of _this_ worse.   “So why don’t you go there.”  

He shoved off of the couch and left his empty on the kitchen counter on his way to his bedroom.  He laid awake in the dark long after he heard Mike leave.  

Why was he dreaming about _Mike_?

  


**_Saturday._ **

 

“I need to see you today.”  

Harvey had waited until 8 AM to make the call, and he couldn’t have waited a minute longer.  Dreams about Donna were complicated, but maybe they could be expected considering their shared history.  Dreams about Mike on the other hand… they were just complicated.  Evidently, they were complicated enough to have Harvey on the verge of panicking for hours.  

“Harvey, I don’t typically do Saturday appointments with my clients,” Agard said over the phone.

“Something happened.”

“Something?  Another panic attack?”

“No,” he replied, although he had barely slept and his chest had been aching since Mike left last night.  He cleared his throat.  “I’ve been having more dreams.”

“Hm.”  Dr. Agard paused for long enough that Harvey worried the call had dropped.  “I’ll meet with you on the condition that you truly try to understand the root of your problems.  You need to tell me in detail about these dreams.”

Harvey grudgingly agreed.  

Agard waited expectantly across from him when he sat down on her couch an hour later.  She didn’t prompt him.  She just waited to hear what he had to say.  

“It was Donna in my first dream.”  Harvey felt his throat try to constrict at the confession.  

“Okay.”  She nodded but otherwise kept silent, waiting for Harvey to hold up his end of the deal to her satisfaction.

“Then it wasn’t.”

“I see.”

“You see _what_?  Because I can’t see one damn reason for any of this.”

“Is that so?  Well, what I see is that you are avoiding dealing with your feelings of loss and abandonment.  First with Donna and then, perhaps, with whomever this new addition is.”

“I’m dealing with Donna.  I hired a new assistant.”

“That’s progress,” Agard agreed.  “And that may be why she isn’t continuing to star in your dreams.  However, you are still avoiding your emotions.”

“I am not avoiding anything!  I’m here, aren’t I?”  

As soon as the words were out of Harvey’s mouth he knew they were a lie.  He was here, yes, but he wasn’t telling her everything.  The expression on Agard’s face said she knew too.

“Yes, you are here.  I’m asking you to be _present_.”

Harvey chewed on those words.  Donna might be the person who left him, but Mike was the one in last night's dream.  The frustrating part was Harvey couldn’t fathom _why Mike_.  Mike wasn’t abandoning him.  He couldn’t.  They were tied together by their shared secret, and they would be forever.  

Unless Harvey fucked it up, which he might have done last night.

That idea was too much to process.

“I’m not doing this,” Harvey said flatly.  He left the door hanging open when he walked out, even with Agard calling after him.

  


**_Sunday._ **

 

“Hey, grump.  Remind me never to talk to you right after you wake up.”  

Mike’s smile came over the phone like Harvey could see it directly.  He was braver than Harvey was.  He was the one making this call after Friday’s debacle, not Harvey.  Harvey had spent the intervening hours stewing in his thoughts about what the hell it’d meant.  A dream about a man was something Harvey could handle.  A dream about Mike was not.  Mike was not and could never be something casual, and Harvey had avoided the pitfalls of commitment for as long as he could remember… since his mother had clearly demonstrated the risks of falling in love.  

“What do you need, Mike?”  

Harvey rested his forehead against the cool metal of his refrigerator and listened.  How would Mike interpret Harvey’s question?  As an exasperated _What_ _do you need?_  Or a desperately interested _What do you need_ _from me_ _?_ A _How can I make this right?_ He wasn’t even sure which he meant.

“I’m just calling to make sure you’re ok,” Mike replied softly.

He pictured Mike here, pressing their foreheads together as he asked.  It almost helped.  Harvey felt a flicker of relief, something that verged on optimism.    

Mike continued in Harvey’s silence.  “I thought maybe you’d want to come over and have dinner with me and Rachel.”

And the relief was replaced with an unexpected twist in his gut.

“I’m fine.  I already have plans,” he lied.

“Oh.”  Mike’s disappointment was easy to hear.  “Are you sure?  Rachel’s making this... I don’t know.  It’s something with barely cooked steak and herbs with French names.  I’m sure it will be amazing.”  

He couldn’t.  

  


**_Monday._ **

 

Work made things manageable.  Mike was over at Zane’s firm, and Harvey was too busy putting out Louis’ fires to think.  

He was too busy to _feel_.  

And when he got home, if he had an extra scotch to ease him into a dreamless sleep… it wasn’t Dr. Agard’s business.

  


**_Tuesday._ **

 

Harvey jerked awake in the early morning darkness, tangled in his sheets and sweating.

“Holy shit,” he gasped through his orgasm.  His cock pulsed to the memory of Mike fucking himself on it.  

> _He arched back over Harvey’s legs, on display for Harvey like such a_ good boy _, knowing Harvey would want to see him like this.  His taut thighs were pressed solidly against Harvey’s sides.  The hard line of Mike’s cock slapped against his belly, leaving a shining streak to show how much he was enjoying this too._
> 
> _“Working yourself to the_ bone _,” Harvey said._
> 
> _Mike laughed and gasped at the ridiculous pun.  “You’re so proud of yourself,” Mike mocked him, still driving down on him with enthusiasm._
> 
> _“You’re here, so clearly you’re_ on top _of it.”  Harvey smirked up at him while he pulled him down by his hips, thrusting into him harder._
> 
> _Mike was panting hard, but he managed a comeback, much to Harvey’s amusement.  “I considered all the_ angles _,” he said grinding down.  Then he purposefully clenched around Harvey until Harvey had to squeeze his eyes closed to hold off his orgasm.  “Yeah, you like this,” Mike taunted him._
> 
> _Fuck, Harvey would never get enough of him.  Mouthy, bossy, giving, generous Mike Ross._

Harvey’s dick gave another postcoital twitch.  

“Shit,” Harvey whispered.  

This was not good.  More was not better.  

He laid there, sticky, and tried not to indulge himself.  He shouldn’t.  Fuzzy pleasure lingering in his skin made it hard to resist the impulse.  

He gave in and let his mind replay the dream.  The glint of Mike’s blue eyes looking down at him, the feel of his body over his, their _connection_.  He wanted to fall asleep again just to reach up and wrap his hand around Mike’s cock, to see the pleasure wash over him.  He wanted to bite at his lip.  He wanted to fuck Mike’s orgasm from him until he begged Harvey to stop.

“Goddamn it,” Harvey exclaimed to his empty bedroom.  Embellishing his dream while awake was squarely in _not ok_ territory.

Harvey stumbled slightly on his way to the bathroom, completely thrown by his subconscious’ curveball.  His reflection in the mirror was flushed and beaded with sweat like he’d actually been a part of that energetic fuck in person.  

Cold water was the answer for now.  Harvey stepped into his shower and washed away the evidence.

When Soloft got up in Harvey’s face later about compensation packages, he only kept it together because Mike was there with him, at his back.  The firm support of Mike’s hand on his shoulder stayed with him for hours.  So did the worried concern in his eyes.  

  


**_Wednesday._ **

 

“Harvey, good,” Jessica said, walking into his office.

“From the look on your face, I don't think it _is_ good.”  Harvey mentally braced himself.  He didn’t have the energy to be optimistic about this visit.

“That remains to be seen.”

“I'm listening,” Harvey replied.

“Robert Zane has been partnering with Mike on the Kelton Insurance case.”

“And?” Harvey didn't like where this was going.

“And it is going well enough, but we need to find out if he suspects anything.”

Harvey's jaw clenched.  “Why would he?”

“I don't care about _why_ .  I care about planning for _when_ , Harvey.  His daughter is Rachel Zane, in case you'd forgotten.”

Clearly, Harvey hadn't.  

“So Zane is going to either be a powerful ally our our worst nightmare, and I want to know which it is.”  With a flick of her finger, Jessica dismissed him from his own office.

Forty minutes later, Harvey was strolling into Robert Zane’s office, finishing his hot dog and aiming for supremely casual.

“Harvey Specter.  I was wondering how long it was going to be before you showed up here,” Zane greeted him.

“What makes you say that?”  Harvey crumpled the napkin and shot it into the wastepaper basket.  He grinned broadly.  Internally, he was far less calm.

“Mike Ross.”  Zane’s tone said that this should have been obvious.

“I hear that you two are putting the the final touches on Kelton Insurance.”

“After I bailed him out about a dozen times, yes.  Are you teaching him to take risks like this, or was he born a damn fool?”

Harvey grinned even more broadly because _that’s his boy_.  “He’s a natural.”

“You’re a damn fool, too,” Zane chuckled.  “And I’ll ask you again: What are you doing here?”

Harvey shrugged, playing it as cool as humanly possible.  “Making sure you’re not trying to poach my associate.”  He turned cold eyes on Zane to make his point.

It was Zane’s turn to smile.  “I’ll admit, the thought had occurred to me.  He’s not going to be an associate much longer if he keeps up this level of work.  Tell me, are you over here because you’re feeling insecure?”

“Do you even know me, Robert?”

“Do you even know Mike Ross?”

Harvey did, which was why he was here fishing for information to protect him.  Maybe he’d gotten too complacent.  Maybe they’d been playing too much offense and not enough defense.  Maybe Harvey had been too concerned with his own problems and not enough about preserving Mike’s chances for a future.

Zane stepped around his desk and approached Harvey.  “Do you know what that kid said about you this morning?”

Considering how tense things had been since Friday night, Harvey had no idea what Mike might have said.  

Zane plowed ahead.  “After he was taking his sweet time to get our motion filed, he had the audacity to feed me some story about helping you out instead of winning our case.  When I told him to get his priorities straight, you know what he said?  He said -- and I’m quoting here -- that he was doing something for the one person who has the right to treat him like his associate but who treats him like his partner anyway.”

“I do,” Harvey said, tension easing in his shoulders.  

He did, didn’t he?  Mike had earned it.  That didn’t mean it wasn’t cavalier to be saying it to Robert Zane of all people.  

Zane lifted his eyebrows.  “Like I said, you’re a damn fool.  And I’d be one too if I wasted my breath trying to get him to come work for me.”

“Well, then.  Pleasure doing business with Rand, Kaldor & Zane.”  Harvey donned his trademark grin and turned for the door.

“One more thing,” Zane called after him.  “If he ever breaks Rachel’s heart, I will be doing something a whole lot worse than poaching him.”

  


**_Thursday._ **

 

All day his traitorous brain had been replaying last night’s dream. They had been curled together, back to chest in the afternoon light, like they’d fucked an entire day away.  He was going over it again -- the way Mike’s hips had rocked back, twitching with overstimulation -- when a knock came at his door.

“Fuck, Harvey.”

Hearing those words while awake was momentarily disorienting.  Mike's urgent tone contrasted uncomfortably with how he'd heard those words in his dream.  So did his demeanor.  He was ashen.  It made Harvey’s skin preemptively prickle.

“What’s going on?” Harvey stepped close to Mike in the doorway.  There was a 50-50 chance he’d need to school him or save him.  He convinced himself quickly that proximity was critical for both scenarios.

“Zane put a 3rd year associate on the case with us.  She knows me.”

“What do you mean, she _knows_ you?  Like in the biblical sense?”  But Harvey knew what Mike was going to say before the words even came out of his mouth.

“No, like in the LSAT sense.”

Harvey's lips pressed flat.  He reached up and grabbed Mike's bicep. Ostensibly, the touch was to settle Mike, but Harvey felt his chest tightening at the thought of their secret coming out.  The thought of losing what they have here, and the tenuous thought that it could ever be something more.

“It'll be fine,” Harvey reassured him.  “She's not going to say anything. It'd torpedo her career too.”

Mike hesitated as he ran the odds.  Then he nodded.

“We will figure something out if we have to, but for now be cool.”  

It was hypocritical, and Harvey knew it.  Having this conversation on the doorstep of his apartment made it that much harder to keep his shit under wraps.  But Harvey’s mental state was not what Mike needed right now.  He needed someone solid.

Mike searched Harvey’s face.  The tension in him eased minutely, and he said, “Correctamundo.  And that's what we're gonna be. We're gonna be cool.”  The corners of his mouth started to curve upward.

Harvey rolled his eyes at the horrible attempt at doing _Pulp Fiction_ justice.  He also gave Mike’s arm a firm squeeze before they separated.

  


**_Friday._ **

 

 

> _Mike rolls over and puts his arm across Harvey’s chest.  They lay there until the sun was too high in the sky to ignore._
> 
> _“What do you want for breakfast? I’ll cook,” Mike says.  His voice is charmingly gravelly._
> 
> _“Something other than Pop-Tarts, so I’ll be the one cooking.”_
> 
> _Mike tweaks Harvey’s nipple in retaliation.  Harvey noogies Mike’s head to get him back.  Mike leans in and straight up_ bites _the meaty part of Harvey’s shoulder._
> 
> _“Oh, now you’re going to get it.”_
> 
> _“Yeah,” Mike dares.  “Am I gonna get it good?”_
> 
> _“So good,” Harvey grins._
> 
> _He wrestles him over onto his back and swoops down on him for a kiss._

Harvey showered and jerked off.  He shouldn’t have let himself.  The echoing sound of Mike’s dream laughter and then Harvey’s fantasy of his moans was too much.  Harvey couldn't keep himself from this any longer, so he’d touched himself and imagined it was Mike’s hand drawing his orgasm from him.  It was something he couldn’t have and it was torture.

He called Agard and made another appointment.

“My dreams are about my associate.”  

“Your associate?  So, this person is your subordinate?”

Harvey nodded.  “His name is Mike.”  He wondered if Dr. Agard heard how his voice softened when he said Mike’s name.  

“And how would you characterize your dreams about him?”

Blood rushed in Harvey’s ears.  He finally settled on the word, “Unreciprocated.”

“Hm.  And why do you think he replaced Donna in your dreams?  Is he leaving his job?”

“No,” Harvey said quickly.  

“No?  He’ll eventually be promoted to partner or leave to find a comparable position elsewhere, correct?”

“No.”

Agard considered him.  “Are you saying no because you don’t want him to leave?”

Harvey nodded stiffly.  He wanted them to somehow persist like this indefinitely.  They would work together on cases, impress each other with their wit… and Harvey could continue to dream about Mike without consequence.

Her expression said she had Harvey exactly where she wanted him.  “Can you acknowledge, then, that this again is about your fear of losing the people closest to you?”

  


**_Saturday._ **

 

Harvey sat in the armchair next to his hotel bed and thought about Mike.  He thought about Mike’s uncertain future.  He thought about Rachel, and how they were probably home together right now.  They have a home together.  Eventually they’ll have a family together.

Harvey can’t break that up.  Mike deserves a family, and the commitment between two people is sacrosanct.  If his mother’s betrayal taught him anything, it’s that.   

What Harvey _can_ do is protect Mike from the consequences of their secret.  Professor Gerard owed them.  Harvey called in the favor.  Now, in his hotel, he turned the envelope over and over in his hands.  Inside, a signed affidavit said that Mike was here at Harvard.  Somehow they’d make the story stick.  

It was coming, and they’d make it through.  

Harvey slowly rose from the chair, pulling off his tie.  He felt numb.  He supposed that was better than another round with a panic attack.  Piece by piece he undressed.  Shoes, then his suit.  He slid naked between the sheets.

Mike was sleeping with her in Manhattan.  He’s fine.  He’s going to _be_ fine.  Harvey had ensured that.  He’ll continue to protect him.  And he’ll deal with Agard picking him apart until he feels like he’s losing his mind.  

Alone in a hotel bed, dreaming that Mike was his… it’s fine.  He’d learn to compartmentalize.

  


**_Sunday._ **

 

Harvey woke up fully hard.  The imagined taste of Mike’s come coated his tongue.  Frustrated, he shoved the hotel pillow beneath his stomach and roughly fucked his cock between it and the bed.  

“Mike.”

  


**_Monday._ **

 

Donna ushered Mike and Rachel into Harvey’s office without preamble.  Whatever was happening here, it wasn’t good and it definitely wasn’t something for the office hallway.  Both of them were agitated.  Mike was running his hands through his hair, dragging it backward like he was going to pull it out at the roots.

“You know I can’t,” Rachel said pleadingly.  Her eyes shone with emotion.  “They’re my parents.  I owe them everything.”

Harvey and Donna shared a concerned look.  Donna shook her head no, _don’t interfere_.

“We just need to convince your mom that we want something small,” Mike countered.

“She’s not going to go for it!  She needs a _reason_ why we balked at the wedding announcement.”

“Rachel, they can’t know.”

“I trust them.  Do you trust me?”

“Yes, of course I do.  But, Rachel--”

A small part of Harvey understood Rachel.  He’d have done anything for his dad.  He _had_.  He’d guarded him from his mother’s secret as long as he could.  Eventually, though, the only way to help him was to let him know what his mother had done.   

A significantly larger part of him, however, could not fathom this.  Family was everything and Rachel gave lip service to choosing Mike as hers.  The true show of loyalty, however, was in actions.

Harvey couldn’t stand by any longer.  This was Mike’s future.  If she couldn’t see that--

But Mike sensed Harvey’s move to intervene and held him back with an arm.

“We’ll think of something,” Mike said.

That night Harvey dreamt he had to fight hand-to-hand against anyone who doubted Mike, like some corruption of a white knight.

  


**_Tuesday._ **

 

“He knows.”  Mike looked terrified and disheveled.

“Get in here.”  Harvey pulled Mike into his apartment by the strap of his messenger bag.  “Did you bike here?”

“It was fastest.  I needed to be here.  There’s no one else I could...”  His blue eyes were glassy.  “I’m freaking out, Harvey.”

Mike was excitable, yes, but he wasn’t someone who panicked.  Then again, Harvey Specter wasn’t someone who panicked either.  Except when he did.  Harvey really had found another him when Mike careened into his life.  This new layer of connection to him had Harvey fighting to stay calm.  

“Tell me what happened.  Who knows what?”  He dreaded what Mike might answer.  

“She told him,” Mike blurted like he had to get it out of his mouth before he gagged on it.  

“That associate on your case?  She’d get fired.”  Harvey felt his rage building.

“No, not her.  Rachel.”

“She what?” Harvey yelled.  Betrayal spiked in him.  How could she be so disloyal to the man she was supposedly in love with?  Mike didn’t deserve any of this.  

“Her mom.  She told her mom.  The wedding plans.  The announcement.  And then Laura told Robert.”  Mike collapsed onto a bar stool.  “Holy shit.  She did it.”

“We’ll fix this.  I’ve got a letter from Gerard--”

“You what?”  Mike’s expression changed.  He looked at him with laser-like focus as he processed what Gerard’s name meant in this context.  But the momentary strength born of optimism didn’t last.  He crumpled again.  “Harvey, there’s no fixing this.  Robert Zane knows.”

“We have to fix this.   _I_ have to.  You’re not going to pay for something I...”  Harvey felt his pulse speeding up.  Rage and helplessness and loneliness churned uncomfortably inside of him.  No, now wasn’t the time.  Mike needed him now.  His chest ached.  His vision tunneled.  He couldn’t…

“Oh god, Harvey?”  Mike stood and put his hands on Harvey’s arms, supporting him.  

“I’m not doing this.  I refuse to… not when… Just give me a goddamn second!”

“What--”

“I’m having a panic attack.  I’ve been having them off and on since Donna left.”  Harvey stumbled toward the sink for water.

Mike steadied Harvey’s hand around the glass and helped him fill it.  He guided it to Harvey’s mouth.

“What do you need?”

Harvey choked around a laugh.  “I need to figure out a way to help _you_.  I’m not losing you.”

And there it was.  Agard had been right.  

“Hey, watch my breaths,” Mike said.  

Mike’s chest rose and fell, rose and fell, rose and fell.  Harvey struggled to time his inhales and exhales to the motion.  

“I’m wigging out too,” Mike said eventually.

Harvey realized their hands were still overlapping on the glass.  

“Clearly.”  Harvey took a deep breath.  “I thought I said be cool, Yolanda.”

Mike stared.  “You are an asshole,” he said, bursting into laughter.  “And, don’t call me Yolanda.”

“How about Honey Bunny?”  It was almost a step too far, but it was disguised in Tarantino’s words.  

Mike rolled his eyes.  At least he looked more at ease than when he’d gotten here.  He took the water glass and put it carefully on the countertop.  

“How did you know to do that?” Harvey asked.  He pointed weakly at Mike’s chest and then back to his own.

“I used to get panic attacks.  After Mom and Dad died.”

“Mike,” Harvey said softly.  He hadn’t even meant to say it out loud.  Really, he wanted to admit here and now that they’d reached critical mass.  They had too many things in common to be anything except _together_.  But he couldn’t.  Right now wasn’t about him.  Instead he said, “Stay here tonight.  For as long as you need.  We’ll figure it out.”

Mike nodded.  “Thanks, Harvey.”  His voice cracked.

  


**_Wednesday._ **

 

They presented a united front when they got to Jessica’s office.  But Zane came with every ounce of rage and parental protectiveness engaged.  

“How dare you drag Rachel into this?  No, don’t answer, you piece of shit.  Save your breath for the trial.”

“Dad!” Rachel covered her mouth in surprise.

“Rachel, we have to.  We’ll all get disbarred if we don’t.”

“No,” Harvey interjected, fast and abrupt.  “We won’t.  We can fight this.”

“Stop!”  Jessica’s voice pierced the argument.  “I think everyone here agrees that _family_ is the most important.  Now, Robert, this may be the time for us to become one.”

“Merge?  You are joking!  Why the hell would I merge with you when I see the kind of ethics you have?”

“Are you questioning Mike’s ethics?”  Harvey stepped closer to Robert, chin thrust out.

“Hell yes I am!”

Mike yanked Harvey back and stepped between the two of them.  Harvey bumped against the barrier that was Mike’s back, enraged that Zane couldn’t remember three days ago when Mike went toe-to-toe with Kelton Insurance to make hundreds of people whole again.  Case after case, Mike had shown more empathy than the rest of this firm combined.

Zane stepped between Rachel and the rest of Pearson Specter Litt, shielding his daughter.  “Rachel is not going to risk her future as a lawyer here.”

“What?” Rachel gasped, going suddenly pale as her father’s words registered.

He turned to her.  “You have to face the Character and Fitness Committee, and you’re not doing it with this firm tied around your ankle like a ball and chain.  They will drag you down with them.”

Tears rimmed in Rachel’s eyes.  She didn’t have to say it out loud.  Harvey knew -- everyone in the room knew -- the competing interests battling inside of her.  Loyalty to the firm she’d given nearly a decade to.  Loyalty to Mike.  Or, loyalty to the man who had raised her.  Loyalty to her parents.  It was an impossible decision.

In front of Harvey, Mike sagged.  

“Give me a piece of paper.”  He reached toward Jessica’s desk.  “I’ll resign here and now.”

“Mike, you can’t,” Harvey pleaded.  No one else said a word.

“I’ll move out,” Mike said quietly while he wrote.

Rachel nodded through her tears.  

  


**_Thursday._ **

 

Donna quietly spread the word that Mike was leaving the firm.  Vague rumors were embellished as word spread.  

“He had a breakdown.  Harvey worked him too hard and he’s checking into rehab.”

“I don’t think he’s been right since his grandmother died.  Poor guy.”

“Do you think he had his hand in the money somehow?  He took $350 bucks off me counting cards at Devon’s poker game.”

“No way. Ross is a good person. I hope he gets whatever this is figured out.”

None of the rumors were close to the truth.  Harvey let people believe all of them even though it killed him to hear them impugn his character.  It was better than the alternative, though.  This way Mike’s legal reputation was intact.

When Harvey got home, Mike was laying on the couch staring at the ceiling.

“It was my dream,” Mike said in a hoarse voice.

Harvey understood what it felt like to be denied his dream.

  


**_Friday._ **

 

Harvey took the afternoon and came home to a living room full of boxes.  Mike was sitting in the middle of them with a beer.  He had picked off the label and plastered it damp to the side of one of the boxes labeled BOOKS in Mike’s rapid scrawl.  He looked so defeated sitting there surrounded by his stuff.  Harvey ached on his behalf.  It was Harvey’s fault that Mike had had everything and then lost it.  He should have done more.

“Thanks,” Mike said when he looked up.  

“For what?”

“For being the bright spot in all of this.  For not giving up on me.”

Harvey didn’t know what to say in response to that.  Instead he opened a box with DVDs written across it in Sharpie.  

“I’m horrified that these are the two best choices, but here we are.   _Alien vs. Predator_ or _Conan the Destroyer_?”  

Mike smiled a little.  “Grace Jones as Zula is scary like Jessica, so not _Conan_.”

Harvey shrugged his assent and put the movie in the player.  He grabbed himself a beer too and joined Mike on the couch.  He tried not to think about what had happened the last time they were watching TV here.

Later, in the low light cast from the television, Mike commented, “You know, there’s always a moral to the story.  Even in cheesy action flicks.”

Harvey hummed noncommittally.  

“See, here, Alexa makes something out of nothing--”

“A spear out of an alien tail.”

“I call that resourceful.”

“How many beers have you had?”

Mike snorted.  “Enough, but hear me out.  Something out of nothing.  She’s allies with someone strong enough to literally eat her, but she wins.”

Harvey took a last swig of beer from his bottle.  He could tell where Mike was going with this.

“That’s what I did,” Mike said quietly.  

“I’m sure Jessica wouldn’t eat you,” Harvey tried to lighten Mike’s mood.  It didn’t work.

He looked over at Harvey.  His eyes trailed over Harvey’s face, stopping on his mouth.  “I didn’t win though.”

“You did win,” Harvey replied.  “For lots of people, you won.”

Mike sighed unhappily.  “What am I going to do now?”

  


**_Saturday._ **

 

With Mike in the next room, Harvey’s dreams took on new life.  He woke up again from a wet dream, memories of his mouth around Mike’s cock and Mike’s around his, endless looping pleasure.  It made breakfast across the counter from him slightly awkward even when one of them was (thankfully) ignorant of what had gone on in Harvey’s bedroom.

“I’m going out for little while,” Harvey said.

Mike’s eyebrows went up.  “That’s vague and sounds kind of ominous.”

“It’s not.”  Harvey looked out the windows over Mike’s shoulder, avoiding his eyes.  

“You ok?”

He hesitated for a moment.  Then, he decided he owed this to Mike.  “I see a therapist.”

“Oh,” Mike said around his bite of cereal.  “I didn’t--”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.  Were you born in a barn?”

Mike hurriedly chewed and swallowed.  “I used to.  Also.  You know, after.”

Harvey looked at him a long moment before he gave him a tight smile. Add it to their growing list of similarities.

He took the club’s ‘62 Corvette the long way to Agard’s office.  The rumble of the engine was visceral.  Focusing on it emptied his mind for a while.  If he thought too long about how he wanted Mike, it would make him legitimately crazy.

“I’m not going to lose him,” Harvey started when he sat down across from Dr. Agard.  

“But?”  

Harvey scowled.  

Agard needled.  “You came here, so I conclude it is because you have something to say.”  She gestured for him to continue.

“But, I can’t see a path to getting what I really want.”

“Which is?”

“More.”

“More, as in you are trying to control him? Own him?”

The idea was so off-base.  “No!  More as in… I want more for _him_.”

Agard smiled.  “Well, Harvey, this sounds like progress.”

“It doesn’t feel like progress.  I don’t know how to do what he needs.”

“It’s progress because you’re bringing someone into your life and desiring a future with them.  You’re putting his needs on par with your own.  How many people have you done that for in your life?”

Harvey considered her question.  “Very few.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“One.  My dad.”

Agard nodded.  “This man from your dreams must be special then.”

Harvey flushed and nodded tightly once.  “He’s my guy.”

  


**_Sunday._ **

 

Mike had taken up residence in one of the chairs on Harvey’s balcony.  His hair was soft and moving in the late afternoon breeze.  He had buried himself in books and was reading them at an astonishing pace.  Worryingly, or perhaps encouragingly -- Harvey hadn’t decided which -- they were all related to the law.   _A Man for All Seasons_ , some John Grisham paperback, Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s autobiography, the Magna Carta.  Which is when Harvey decided to intervene.

“Come on.”  Harvey gestured inside.

“I’m at a good part,” Mike protested.

“You’re at a good part.  In the Magna Carta.”

“It’s foundational, Harvey.  Have respect for the forefathers of our chosen profession.”  

Mike immediately blanched at his own words.  They both heard the easiness of his joking response, and the irony stung.

“And _this_ is why I’m taking you out.  Let’s go,” Harvey said.

“Out?” Mike asked.  His gaze was laser-sharp.  

Harvey rolled his eyes.  “Yes, out of this building.  So remember to tie your shoes like a good boy.”

Mike considered him for a moment and then stood.  “Ok, but I have to go potty first.”

“While you’re in there, pack a toothbrush.”

“What kind of _out_ is this where I need good oral hygiene?”

Harvey shoved him toward the bathroom to get him moving.  “You never know when the need will arise, so plan accordingly.”

While Mike clattered around with his toiletries, Harvey braced himself on the kitchen island.  He imagined Mike’s chest rhythmically rising and falling to keep himself under control.  What Harvey was about to do was risky.  It had to work.  There was no other choice than to make this happen, not after the expression Mike had just had on his face.

He had himself pulled together enough by the time Mike reemerged to pretend he had himself under control.  

“Are we there yet?” Mike quipped.

“Grab a suit coat, and get the move on.”

Harvey ushered him downstairs and put him into the Jaguar he’d picked up yesterday afternoon when he dropped off the Corvette.  Agard had gotten him far enough to take action.  Even if dream-Mike and real Mike never converged, Harvey could do this for him.

They hadn’t even made it as far as the Triborough Bridge when Mike looked up from his phone.  

“Rachel messaged me.”

“Oh?”  The sudden taste of worry was sour in Harvey’s mouth.  He hoped his tone was neutral.

“She convinced her father to keep quiet,” Mike continued.  “He decided my pro bono work showed my character.”

“It does.  And no feds is a good thing.  It gives you time.”   _It gives_ us _time._

“Yeah.”

The silence that followed was heavy.  Mike stared out the side window.  The concrete of the road made a thumping beat that felt too loud.   

Harvey couldn’t get a read on Mike.  What was he thinking?  Likely about Rachel and about loss.  Mike was passive next to him.  He wasn’t trying to figure out where they were driving.  It was uncharacteristic.  It gnawed at Harvey until he broke the silence when his own thoughts got too loud.  

“But?”

“She’s not coming back.  Putting her career first, she said.”

Harvey watched the road, forcing himself not to glance over at Mike’s expression.  Selfishly, he took a moment to be glad that Rachel was leaving.  Ideally the firm would have kept both her and Mike.  She was incredibly talented.  But it wasn’t in the cards.  When this all shook out, he’d always choose Mike.  And Harvey the dreamer wanted Mike so much more deeply than a work relationship.

Harvey didn’t let himself hold onto his jealousy.  Or, rather, he tried to shove it aside in his mind, because Mike clearly wasn’t glad about this development.

“I don’t blame her,” Mike said diplomatically.  “I did, too.  Put my career first, I mean.”

“I’m out of my element here,” Harvey admitted quietly.  “I’ve always put work first.”

“It’s hard to love a person 100% when you’re in love with your career too,” Mike said.

“Maybe.”

Harvey wondered if it was possible to do both.  If any two people could do it...

  


**_Monday._ **

 

It was barely after midnight when Mike asked, “Why are we here, Harvey?”

They crossed the Mass Ave bridge heading north.  

“We’re here to see a guy about a thing.”

“Harvey.”

“Mike.  Trust me.”

They drove in silence for the last mile, and parked outside a brownstone a few blocks down from John Harvard himself.

They didn’t have to knock before Gerard opened the door.

“I have a proposition for you both,” Harvey said, concealing his nerves beneath a wide smile.

  


**_Months later._ **

 

Harvey woke from the warmth of his most familiar dream, of Mike coming home after winning a case in spectacular fashion and kissing Harvey between bites of whatever dinner they’d scrounged up.  It was still a fantasy, these days more than ever.  Agard had been helping him deal with his hang-ups -- losing Mike chief among them -- and he was doing better.  The firm was solid, despite Louis’ antics.  Maybe it was better now, because Harvey made a point to take one pro bono for every ten (ok, maybe fifteen) corporate cases he won.  But the dreams still greeted him most mornings.  

His phone rang.

“Hello?”

“You’re not going to believe this,” Mike said.

“If it wasn’t 6 A.M., I would say try me.  But since it’s barely light outside--”

Mike interrupted Harvey’s usual pre-coffee grumbling.  “Gerard liked my first manuscript enough that he thinks we should collaborate with Furstner.”

Tabitha Furstner was the preeminent constitutional law professor at Columbia.  Columbia, which was a hundred _blocks_ away, instead of two hundred _miles_ away.  He was fully awake now.  The idea that Mike could be back to visit, even if just for a day here and there…

“On?”

“The interface between ethics and pragmatics in presidential veto power.”

“Sounds horrible and dry.”

“So’s your sense of humor, but I’m not complaining.”

“But, see, you just did complain,” Harvey grinned into the phone.

Mike chuckled and the sound was warm in Harvey’s ear.

“I’m calling because we need to pull off one more thing,” Mike said.  “I can’t publish with Furstner unless everything is 400% kosher.”

Harvey sat up on the edge of his bed.  Gerard knew their secret, but they had something on him.  Furstner wasn’t a part of that deal.  She couldn’t know.  

“What do you need?”

“I finagled a quiet meeting.”

“Is that right?”  What Harvey really wanted to say was _that’s my boy._

“Gerard owed more than one favor, surprising no one.  This time to the chair of the bar board of examiners.”

Harvey’s heart was in his throat.  “And that means?”

“It means I’m going to read for the bar in Massachusetts, and I want you to be a character witness.”

Harvey was flooded with relief.  This was going to work.  This was _going_ to work.

  


**_Another month later._ **

 

Mike propped his feet up on the coffee table next to Harvey’s.  

“You know, I’m two times the lawyer you are now,” Mike teased.

“Two times the nerd, maybe.”

Harvey clinked the neck of his beer against Mike’s.  Quiet celebration was the plan for the evening.  They’d gotten Mike into the Massachusetts bar.  Now, that could be used to back up and obfuscate Lola’s tweaking of the New York bar records.  Mike had his name on a published paper in _Regulation & Governance _ , which both made Harvey immeasurably proud and gave him a neverending source of taunts about Mike’s scholarly career change.  (Yes, Harvey _did_ have Rene tailor Mike a suit coat with elbow patches last month.)  More than that, however, Mike had coauthored that paper with _the_ Professor Gerard, distinguished professor of legal ethics who was above reproach.  If anything was going to give Mike a smooth path into his future, it was that.  No one in their right mind would suspect someone who had these credentials of being a fraud.

“I’m not just here for a beer,” Mike said eventually.  “I was going to ask…”

“No, you can’t borrow the Benz.”

Mike grinned.  “It’s a bigger ask.”

“I don’t know how it could be.  It’s an E-class which is short for _sweet ride_.”

Mike didn’t rise to the bait.  “Would you be ok if I stayed here a couple of days of the week while I get this thing off the ground with Furstner?  It’s not a huge deal.  I mean, I could get a place up by campus if--”

“Mike,” Harvey interrupted.  “You still can’t borrow the Benz, but it’s not too much to ask to stay here.  I’d be happy to have you.”

Harvey just would make damn sure he didn’t fall asleep in the same room as him.

  


**_The following Friday._ **

 

Mike startled awake, long limbs jerking.  He looked charmingly like a four-armed, big brained octopus.    

“Oh, god.  Was I talking?  Did I say anything?  I totally did.”  He reddened rapidly.  Cheeks, ears, down his neck.

He _definitely_ had been talking.  Harvey hadn’t believed what he was hearing at first.  He’d even grumbled quietly that Mike should _shut the hell up_ , because he thought he was being mocked, and that he’d finally been found out.  But the longer Mike talked in his sleep, the more Harvey’s heart rate and cock both took eager note.  

_I love it when you… yeah.  Fuck, right there.  Ah!  Harvey!  Come on!_

It was now or never that Harvey was going to broach this.

“You did,” Harvey confirmed.

“Fuck,” Mike said, eyes wide.  “Look--”

Harvey held up his hand to quiet him.  “Do you remember that night we were watching the Yankees and then I basically kicked you out?”

“How could I forget?  But what does that...”  

Harvey paused for a moment and watched the flurry of expressions go across Mike’s face.  He nodded when Mike seemed to have clicked the last piece into the mental puzzle.

“Harvey,” Mike said quietly.  “That was a year ago.”

“Yes.”

Mike turned his body so he was facing Harvey, one knee bent up between them on the couch.  He looked equal parts vulnerable and determined.  Harvey wondered if he wore the same expression.

“When you left me in Harvard Square with a toothbrush and a postdoctoral fellowship.  That was about when I had my first one.”

Harvey couldn’t hold back the pleased look at Mike’s admission.  That didn’t mean he couldn’t draw this out just to yank Mike’s chain a little.  “Your first one what?”  

“You’re going to make me say it out loud?  Uh uh.  No way.  You go first.”

By this point, he was pretty sure his heart and his cock were both going to get their way, so he said it.  “I’ve been dreaming about you.”

Mike exhaled and agreed, “Me too.”  He reached a few fingers out and touched Harvey’s hand.  “Wanna tell me about them?”

“I’d rather show you,” Harvey said.

Mike shifted suddenly, and Harvey had a lap full of mouthy, bossy, giving, generous lawyer.  

“It’s a deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> Movie quotes from _Pulp Fiction_ , _Apocalypse Now_ , and _Knute Rockne, All American_. Reference is also made to _Alien vs. Predator_ , clearly a classic to rival the other movies listed here.


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